Katherine A., 9th Grade

Realizations from Rehab

The further we drove along the unfamiliar South Florida roads, the
higher my anxiety grew. Finally, we pulled into a driveway surrounded by
luscious palm trees. There was a sign reading, "The Renfrew Center, First in
Eating Disorders", the place that would be my home for the next twomonths or so. We signed paper after paper; then, a woman led me to the largest
building: Residence. She sat me down on a couch and instructed me to wait
there. So I did, for what seemed likehours. It was quiet,
almost silent except for the white noise machine next to me. Several women
walked by me, most of them taking the time to smile at me. Despite these
smiles, the Renfrew Center seemed to be a sad place, a place where a lot of pain
took place. There was every size of woman here, ranging from obese to emaciated
and everything in between. One woman was in a wheelchair and looked
approximately three inches from death. In that moment, as in most moments
around that time, I felt that I was the largest, fattest person there, although
it was clearly my mind playing tricks on me. Then, another girl appeared. However, this one was different from the
others I had seen. She did not wear the standard skinny jeans or leggings;
instead she was wearing a somewhat tattered red floral skirt that went down to
her knees, and a Wu-Tang Clan t shirt. Underneath, it was evident that she wore
no bra, and her legs were unshaven. She was beautiful and interesting to look
at, with her messy brown hair that appeared to not have been brushed since the
turn of the century. I knew immediately that I wanted to get to know her. Later
that day, I was informed that she had left Renfrew. A couple weeks went by (although it felt like years), and I had
grown comfortable at Renfrew. I was more or less friends with all the women
there. One day, the girl I had seen my first day appeared on the couch in the
back of the community living room. I decided to put myself out there and
introduce myself. She said her name was Daisy*. Today, she was dressed in a
black Doom Riders shirt and old jeans with drawing all over them. Right away I
noticed how she smelled of cigarettes and dirty laundry, a smell I would later
come to love. Her hands were dirty and had the word "DIRT" tattooed
across the knuckles. The tats looked as if she had done them herself. "How long have you had the disorder?" She asked me."Which one?" I half-jokingly responded. She replied by telling
me that it was a good point. I asked her the same question, and she told me she
had had an eating disorder for eight years. Over the next several days Daisy and I became very close. Both of us
were confined to the community room from 9:45 AM to 9:30 PM everyday, so we had
many hours together. There were a few reasons why one could be restricted from
leaving the community room; it could be that their weight was so low they could
not be permitted to walk around, or that they were not safe enough on their
own, or maybe had to be hooked up to a feeding tube to supplement their
nutrition, orthey kept making
themselves sick to purge food, etc. We ate meals in a small room while a staff
member watched us and offered support when needed. When we needed to go to the
bathroom, we had to leave the door open and count out loud to a staff member
outside. The bathrooms in our rooms were locked at all times of day, and
when we showered we had to have a staff member stand in the bathroom with us. It really wasn't much of a life to lead. Daisy and I spent our long, long hours in the community room sitting in
the back of the room, and when there was not group therapy going on, we would
talk or listen to music or read or sleep or I would brush her hair as she did
not have a hairbrush. She told stories of her drug addiction, psychiatric ward
stays, or of long periods of time spent living on the streets. She was unlike
anybody I had ever met before. She was beautiful in an unconventional way; she
was raw and real and, simply put, human. From day one I had recognized my
growing feelings for her. Although I had only known her for a few weeks, I had
completely fallen in love with her. One evening we had broken the rules and
gone upstairs to sit in the living room that was much less busy than the main
one. We sat on one of the couches and she began telling me about her feelings
for me. She told me she thought I didn't reciprocate the feelings, but I told
her how wrong she was. We talked until my medication kicked in and made me
sleepy, at which point we went to our rooms, where our squeaky beds and ugly
floral comforters were waiting. The days that followed were largely the same. We were woken up by the
nurses at a time entirely too early to get vitals and weights checked. There
was attending group and individual therapy sessions, crying and breakdowns at
meals, painting therapeutic pictures, laughing with friends, sleeping during
guided meditations, taking medications along withMiralax, eating mandatory
snacks and drinking the dreaded Boost supplements for weight gain, vying for
the use of the phones to call family and significant others, hours of boredom,
upset, and also happiness. Daisy and I got closer everyday. Eventually the counselors and
therapists tried to separate us, but eventually gave up, referringto us as
"inseparable",a good description of
our relationship. She drew me pictures and painted me things, all of which I
still have. One day, she told me she was leaving, that Renfrew was kicking her out.
I cried for an hour at least. She said she didn't know when she was leaving, but
to say goodbye right then. It turned out that she wasn't leaving for a few
days, so I made the most out of my time with her. Eventually she did leave, and
I was surprisingly apathetic. I still remember exactly what she looked like the
last time I saw her face. Daisy made me realize a few things. Because of her I came to the
conclusion that love does not hurt; rather, some of the things associated with
love can hurt. She made me realize that the best people suffer the most. During
my time at Renfrew I met so many wonderful people, all of which struggle with
some of form of the same horrible, life threatening disease: an eating
disorder. Finally, Daisy confirmed my belief that even in the darkest of times
there is light, happiness, and love.